I think I'm for blowing it up. Would absolutely crush my little heart to see Belts gone, but I think with as thin as the franchise is in pitching prospects you have to use the limited assets you have in Belts, Elvis, and Hollywood to try and rebuild.

"I like cussing, getting drunk, and fooling around with women" Danny Balis

We are less than a week into The Athletic Dallas and, having not read anything by him prior to this, I am already pretty tired of Lexi Weaver overwriting the fuck out of everything single thing he does.

Case in point:

But when seen through a broader lens, rarely does the indefatigable weathering of baseball more viciously howl its presence than on the most hopeful day of the season. As pitchers and catchers report, and hope spring(training)s eternal, so too do ghosts screech mortality into our ears. Those ghosts have names, and they are all listed conveniently in alphabetical order in PR e-mails from one year ago this week.

Of course, ghosts being what they are, they cannot out-scream the tangible chorus of leather and wood and horsehide and stitches that has already begun to permeate the ever-elongating days. “Pitchers and Catchers Report” is the crucifix we hold steady in the face of Punxsutawney Phil.

Let’s start from the position that sees all, knows all. Sore bodies, bionic knees, and a left hand that will ache in the winters of the decades yet to come. “Every play in baseball begins with a pitcher.” It’s true, but before the hurler converts potential energy to kinetic, he must first come to an understanding of where this missile should be aimed. Ciphers and subterfuge flash in a series of finger flicks, taps, and nods. Occasionally, the game plan begins earlier, the pitch call prefaced by the field general standing on home plate and issuing a directive to his other eight allies. Shoulder, shoulder, knee. (Stand over there.) Helmet, swipe, hip-knee-hip-knee. (Plan for this scenario.)